


How many gunslingers does it take to mend a broken heart?

by Torgoforpresident



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: And FAITH, Arthur needs love, Consensual Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dutch Has A Plan, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, It's the van der lin gang, Just need more money, Sexy spankings, Slow Burn, Swearing, Violence, in a good way, micah is a ho, they're crazy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-03-13 10:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18938749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torgoforpresident/pseuds/Torgoforpresident
Summary: Arthur never believed he'd be happy after Mary. He had hoped for sometime, longer than he should've- he was a damned fool. He doesn't expect that fire to rekindle as he and his gang are on the run.POSSIBLE SPOILERS! Most likely up to chapters 3 & 4Slow burn, Bad at summaries! SorryUnfortunately I don't own any of the characters, they belong to rockstar except for My OC Adeline.





	1. Froze

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many chapters this will be, but I am going to try my hardest to make sure to keep this updated! There's some swearing, blood, ya know the usual for rdr2
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Colter

 

The storm

 

Little red flowers bloomed in the snow. I kicked some powder over the trail holding tighter to my side and continued onward. They still would see my tracks but with the heavy flakes of snow floating down I imagine it wouldn't be for long.

 

Daylight waned quickly in the mountains. By the time I reached a suitable shelter only blood orange fingers of light overreached the mountain peaks. Maybe an hour of good light left... Best move quick. I took over the sturdiest looking building and set up in the main room. It was barren but the windows were all intact and it had locked doors. A fireplace, painted in soot, stood cold in the middle of the back wall.

 

This was an old place for sure.

 

One of the buildings had some dry firewood thankfully. It took several trips to get a nights worth to my camp given my injuries. Warmth spread across the bandage. _Fuck_ , _already needed to be redressed_.

 

The wind had picked up, stinging my face and eyes; it was getting cold. I looked to the north where that biting chill descend from and frowned at the rapidly bruising sky. My feet had gone numb- rather my entire body it seemed. Froze to the Bone.

 

 _Better get that hearth burning quick_.

 

Fire danced to life after a few tries. The stones in the fireplace groaned in protest as the flames licked them. Kindeling was devoured and the fire grew stronger. Confident that it would stay lit I scrounged the rest of the building for anything useful.

 

There wasn't much in the way of food. Unfortunate. My bag was feeling mighty light... _I'll have to ration it._ _Maybe go hunting_. If my horse hadn't been killed it wouldn't have been so bad.  But I had found some pots. Could heat some water to clean this wound properly.

 

Outside the darkness grew to engulf the world, temperatures sinking _. I wouldn't be hunting anytime soon._ Like an dutiful solider keeping lookout, I stoked my defenses, focusing on keeping my island of warmth alive.

 

Water boiled. A needle heated red and threaded. I bit my glove as the needle sunk into flesh. My snarls were lost in the wind.

 

******************

 

The storm came in fast and hard. The weathered building groaned against the brutal winds, chill pressing further in. My fire choked and sputtered in the hearth; firewood was running low too.

 

"Damn..." I stared down at the small flame praying it'd stay alive with less for a bit longer. It wasn't much but it bit back the chill's fingers just enough to be tolerable. "If I can't die then you can't."

 

Only good thing about the storm was my tracks would be covered and it would give me some time to get ahead. They would follow, they always did, but it'd make me feel more comfortable. At least they couldn't follow me now. They wouldn't risk their lives in this weather, not for me.

 

The knock on the door startled me. Who the hell would be out there? For a moment I was utterly sure it was a wendeigo, what other creature would be romping about in this? This camp was devoid of food. Starvation most definitely flurished here... especially with this weather. Fresh blood lingered in the air. It was practically invited.

 

It stood just outside the door, waiting, head bowed with eyes like coals and teeth slathered in saliva. Taunt skin over too sharp bones, ice clinging to it's antlers... My heart raced. I couldn't fight a wendeigo. It would take me and devour my very marrow-

 

I squashed those ridiculous thoughts before they really started going wild. Rifle in hand I continued to reassure myself _(it's just a legend)_. It was a person out there, a crazy one at that. Flesh and blood, with a heart that once shot ended their life.

 

The knock came once more. I went to the frosted window and only saw an outline and a lantern. Just one, I could deal with one. I waited in front of the door, gun ready. Let him come to me.

 

Didn't wait long before the person stepped in tentatively.

 

"Hello?" Weird to announce his presence? Whatever.

 

I cocked the gun and he froze in the doorway- smart fella.

 

"I don't mean to intrude but I thought it were empty." He stepped out from behind the door with both hands up. By the amount of snow and frost hanging on his blue coat I figured he must've been out there a while.

 

"Nope. Whatcha want?" I knew the answer to that already and I was wary. He didn't make any moves, however.

 

"I'm looking for a place for me and my friends to wait out this storm." He jerked his head back towards the vanishing white. "we got a caravan with women and children, and a few injured fellas not too far off from here."

 

I didn't move, weighting my options. If I said fuck off then I'm sure he'd go get his gang and they'd force me out into the cold for telling them to fuck off. If I let them stay I still run the same risk, _but_ I could possibly get an easier ride out of here. Not to mention safety in numbers. If my pursuers decided to brave the weather than I'd have a better chance.

 

"Who are you guys?"

 

"Just some folks who got stuck in the storm."

 

I snorted. "Bullshit, there's nothing up here and you'd be batshit crazy to risk continuing on in a storm like this."

 

A bit of a smirk played on his lips. "Well then, I reckon yer up here for the same reason then huh?"

 

  "well its safe here for now, bring them...no funny business." I deflected, still hugging the trigger just in case.

 

"Miss this ain't the weather for that."

 

"No I guess it ain't, Mr...?"

 

"Morgan, Arthur Morgan."

 

I only nodded and watched him leave.

 

*************

 

His group was pretty big, and it included a youngin as he had said before. The leader, a dapper man going by the name of Dutch had a way with words; I stayed to to the edge of the group as he gave a heartfelt speech. He then thanked me for the shelter. I just nodded, wrapping my coat a bit tighter around myself.

 

He and Arthur went out to find someone else, wasn't sure who. I retired to one of the small rooms in the back of the building. It had a bed surprisingly, though it was in rough shape. However with my bedroll in top it wasn't too bad. A flame danced in an oil lamp shifting shadows on the walls. I stared at the worn pages of a book for some time, failing terribly at reading.

 

Apprehension coiled in my gut, I wasn't sure about these people... A knock stopped my thoughts.

 

"Miss?" Arthur's head peeked through the door.

 

"Yeah?"

 

Seemingly taking that as an invite he stepped in. "It was kind of you to share what you had and I would like to thank you for it."

 

Unsure of his angle I only inclined my head. There was a beat of silence. Neither of us broke eye contact.

 

"I ain't sure who yer running from, but if you want to you can run with us. Dutch already said he'd be happy to have another... And well, if you decide your place ain't with us then you can be on your way." He shrugged, crossing his arms. "Your choice."

 

I stared at him for a long moment. Having some people to watch my ass would be nice... Need to think about that. "I might take you up on that offer."

 

"Glad to hear it miss- I don't think I caught your name.."

 

"I didn't give it, but it's Adeline Schook."

 

"It's a pleasure Adeline." 

 

*****

  
It had been a couple of days now with these people and they weren't too bad. But maybe that was the fever talking. I left the hut where everyone gathered, where the man Arthur and the Mexican fella had saved off the mountain was staying. One of their own.  Thankfully the storm has passed just in time for them to get him.

 

I went back to my room, looking around blankly for a moment. I was so tired; just that little walk took it right out of me. Out of breathe.

 

Sitting down on the bed caused a twinge in my tender side. I gasped a little and cradled it. That damn bounty Hunter and his fucking aim- I can't believe he actually shot me through all them damn trees, while I was moving none the less! Damn my rotten luck. Gingerly I pulled back my shirt and the yellowing bandage, swearing at the mad red wound looking back at me. Damn... infection.

 

Maybe if I clean it good tonight it'd be ok by tomorrow... I had seen some whiskey here somewhere, I'd boil up more water. Redress it back here.

 

I was a bloody mess by the time I was done cleaning it. Yellowish-red blood spattered the floor, still steaming against the chill. It was absolutely aflame. I bit harder on the glove and forced whiskey on it, my vision went white and in my mind's eye my side was being burned away. I sat for a moment, just breathing, getting a hold of the pain. I can do this. I did it before.

 

The needle, red by candle flame, shook in my hands and I focused hard to make the twin apparition before me one. That wasn't good. But if I didn't do it now then I'd lose more blood than I could stand. It went easily the first way and I couldn't help the string of curses. My vision swam. My stomach flipped. Fuck why was this harder than before?

 

Just one more. Then I can sleep.

 

And I did just that. Much like the whiskey I forced myself to push the needle back through. This time I spat the glove entirely along with some bile. Harsh bursts of air came from my nose as I worked to avoid screaming.

 

"Fuck- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck..."

 

Were those footsteps or my heart beat? I got my answer when the door opened, Arthur replacing where it was. He dropped down and helped me back up to a sitting position. With an apology he tugged the needle the rest of the way out of my side.

 

"Adeline? What happened?"

"W-what does it look like?" I ground my teeth, looking up at the man. _Great, now they knew._

 

"This is real infected... You need some medicine and doctoring." His eyes clouded for a moment. "I'm gonna go get someone, and I'm gonna put you on the bed, ok?"

 

Gentle as ever he hooked me up in his arms and placed me on my bedroll. The room began to spin and I didn't quite hear everything he was saying. Something about getting Abigail and he'd be back. And don't move. If I wasnt in so much pain I would've laughed. Don't move? Where was I going to go?

 

Darkness swirled at the edge of my eyes. Welcoming. Quite. Painless. I let myself get pulled in. So tired. 

 

*********

 

I woke up overly warm and shivering. Shit. The ceiling turned slowly above me and I closed my eyes- felt like puking my guts out. Focus on sound. Fire crackled off a ways, the building groaned against an occasional bluster of wind. Footsteps, light murmers. A gamy aroma lofted slightly, turning my stomach more. Pain was a steady companion, sinking it's teeth into my side. Good, meant I was alive.

 

I blinked, squinting upwards then side to side, confirming that I wasn't alone. Arthur and a girl who's name left me sat close, most likely to enjoy the fire that had probably been stoked up for me in the hearth. I was in the same building. My breathe didn't stab me nearly as much.

 

My stomach continued to turn. Had to get up. But I was stopped by the silence of the conversation and the scrapping of chairs across the floor.

 

"Lay yerself right back down Missy. You ain't in any shape to be moving." Despite the winter frost, which seemed to zap the strength of anything living, the woman's voice was quite forceful. She was beside me the next second laying me back down firm but gently. "You got an infection and a fever. You need rest."

 

Her hand was cool to my forehead and cheek. Through the haze  I saw my mom, her face pinched in worry as she tested my fever. But that couldn't be her because she was buried.

 

"Still warm..." She frowned, her dark eyes regarded me critically. "Are you feeling any better?"

 

"No." I would've laughed if I had the ability. I felt like shit.

 

"It's only been a day... You don't expect things to get better do you Abigail?" Arthur had gravitated over to sit in a chair not far off. He took a dart, almost lit it but tucked it in his breast pocket instead.

 

"No... but now she's awake I can give her some medicine."

 

Things were far off now. Twilight curled around me, dark and quiet. Something cold touched my lips and the health cures bitter taste stung my throat. Water came next. The quiet soon took over, muffling any sounds- as if I were under water. Then nothing.

 

_Thank you ma._

 

************

  
Time went by in a blur of colors, murmured voices and faces I didn't know. Except for one that seemed familiar. Arthur I believe. I vaguely was aware of being moved occasionally. Sharp pains in my side.

 

Someone fed me. Someone kept me warm. Or tried rather, I couldn't seem to shake the chill.

 

Maybe I was still out in the woods, all this was a fever dream- the camp, the people. That would explain why my very bones shook from cold; Nature was burying me lazily in a tomb of snow. Didn't stop some damn wolf from chewing my side open, however. Moonish eyes examined me  closely as it feasted. Dark, froze-over lakes.

 

I didn't have the energy to fight anymore... _I'll see you soon_.

 

******************************

 

About two had passed since I finally regained my awareness, and I was thankful none of this was a simple hallucination. Apparently I had been in and out of consciousness for a couple of days; it seemed like weeks.

 

I could finally keep my dinner down too. I didn't want to be wasting food. Arthur usually helped me with things (when he wasn't out helping Dutch) if Abigail or Miss Grimshaw weren't available. I thought that a bit strange. When confronted about why this was (there was probably more important things for him to do) the outlaw chuckled dryly:   
_"It keeps me from freezing out in the snow."_

 

Welp I couldn't blame him. Besides I wouldn't complain, the man was a good conversationalist with a quick wit and a sarcastic drawl. Often spent time telling stories, embellishing them to the point where we began calling each other out for bullshit tales.

 

It was the first time in a long time I enjoyed anyone's company.

 

It was about a day later when I figured out he had been sleeping in the main area on the floor, so he could keep an eye out on me. _Miss Grimshaw and Abigail are spread thin between everyone_ , he had said, _and they don't trust anyone else to make sure you didn't keel over._ We both got a laugh out that.

 

But that poor guy did quite a bit of work around the place and wasnt able to sleep much out there since it was a main meeting room. And he had helped me quite a bit while I was on the mends. So that night when everyone was getting into bed I approached him, nodding to my room.

 

"You can come sleep in my room. So ya don't keep getting woke up." He quirked an eyebrow at me and I hastnened to clear it up. "You'll be on the floor of course. But there's be a bit more privacy."

 

"I appreciate that Adeline."

 

"Well least I could do for you mother Henning me all week."

 

That got a smirk out of him. I was a good judge of character and that man had a good heart in him. I trusted him enough not to try anything (he already has had plenty of chances). The women of the group spoke highly of him as well so that eased my anxiety.

 

He had no qualms of being on the floor, not after a extra bedroll was laid down to bite the floorboards chill. He actually seemed more relaxed.

 

"I really appreciate this miss. I swear if I got woke up by Micah ranting one more time I would've drown him in the river."

 

"He's a bit loud, I'll agree." I responded tentatively, unsure of the underlying communication channels of this gang. Micah seemed like a downright asshole and I would like to avoid stirring the pot. At least until I got off this damn mountain.

 

All was quiet, nothing but the crackeling fire and wind seemed to be alive. Even after the worst of the infection was done with I was still exhausted all the time. With heavy eyelids I drifted off to sleep easily.

 

Then stared down at Arthur, fighting the urge to either smack him or smother him with the pillow. Instead I pulled it tightly over my head, frowning _._

 

_Of course he fucking snores._


	2. The thaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!
> 
> I'm currently playing through the game again so I can make up a rough timeline of events to make sure I get everything accurate.

Colter

 

Early spring 

 

Time went by slowly here, especially with being deep in the trenches of winter. Everyone was much better off compared when they had first arrived in Colter, myself  inlcuded. The injured were on the mends, spirits not as low, and food wasn't so scarce anymore.

 

Hunger still shrouded people's features, however. A wendigo stalking just outside of camp, sunken eyes prying for a foothold. It's teeth gnashing together in frustration. But a stroke of luck when hunting kept it at Bay.

 

Despite the less than ideal conditions both inside and outside camp, Dutch and his gang had been very busy

 

There had been a fight with some gang, the O'Driscolls, near an old mine ( their location had been provided by a man at Miss Adler's place). That dapper man had one hell of a grudge against them. I steered clear of that. Quite a few of them went to fight Dutch's rival, including Arthur, who from my observations was Dutch's right hand man; next to Hosea.

 

A fella named Keiren was caught on the way back and had been tied up in the stables. Poor guy. He continued to say he wasn't with the O'Driscolls. Dutch laughed. They didn't hit him or anything, least not to much, they mostly denied him food.

 

A thaw was slow to encroach over the mountains, and when it did the cold dug in it's heels. Not fast enough it seemed. Dutch was trying hard to act calm but really he appeared more anxious than anything and for good reason- the melt was a good thing but it also meant danger:

 

If they were getting ready to move on then so were the Pinkertons.

 

As well as my persuers.

 

Apparently that didn't stop their plans to rob a train as well. I must've been out of it while that meeting took place.With another one of his speeches he rallied his men's spirits,;They headed off the next morning, about 7 of them in all. Dutch was a driven man, that was for sure. 

 

In their absence Hosea and miss Grimshaw led the efforts to dig out the caravan. It was slow going, punctuated with periods of rest to regain feeling in their bodies. I had tried my best to help; I was feeling better, I could do something at least. However, when Miss Grimshaw caught me carrying a bundle of blankets, I was quickly stopped in my tracks.

 

"Girl you have no business carrying anything, you'll open up your side and fall back into fever." She snatched the blankets, handing them off to Tilly. "Back by the fire with you! Go on now."

 

I hadn't been with them long but I already knew that miss Grimshaw was a battle axe and there was no arguing with her. I did what I was told, unable to help feeling a bit miffed. The crackling flames were subjected to my indignant expression. However, feeling the tax that simple task put on my body made me begrudgingly agree with the women. I was tired and winded.

 

A rough laugh turned me left where Arthur was, a smirk firmly in place while his voice misted in the air. "Well she told you, didn't she?" I turned back to the fire with a scowl,  feeling like a petulant child. He came to stand next to me, reaching towards the warmth  "Aw don't worry about that, she's got that motherin' instinct. Just got a funny way of showin' it."

 

I watched the heat lick snow off his gloves for a moment. Then nodded. "Ya I can see that. I just don't like being dead weight is all."

 

"I understand, I've been there too. There was this one time," He sent a leery glance over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was in earshot, "I had done somethin' stupid and got myself hurt. But I was dead-set on ridin' out with Dutch for a job."

 

"Lemme guess, miss Grimshaw had other plans?"

 

He nodded with a chuckle. "that she did. Told me if I didn't get the rest I needed she'd tie me down to the bed." 

 

A grin sloped across my face, I didn't bother to hide my myrth. "Now that would'a been a funny sight."

 

"Needless to say I did what she said." 

 

Our laughing drifted into comfortable silence.That was something I liked about this man, quiet wasn't awkward; seldom did I find someone comfortable with silence. I let my mind blank, it was still foggy from the fever, focusing instead on the burn pit. The fire warmed me up some, my bones finally getting some feeling back. Arthur's clothes were starting to drip. He didn't seem to mind. 

 

"Mr. Morgan! Miss Schook! You're needed on this wagon! " I turned to look at Dutch who was pointing at said wagon. Hosea waved from the top seat. "And make sure you put that fire out!"

 

"Ya go on and join Hosea, I'll be along."

 

I was glad I was with these two, both were interesting and Hosea had something about him that I just liked. Probably the fact that he reminded me of someone. The older man bounced his leg impatiently, eyes darting to Dutch before the settled on me.

 

"How're you feeling miss Schook?" 

 

"I'm not too bad considering," I leaned on the wheel. "And call me Adeline."

 

"Alright Adeline it is." Hosea cracked a smile before pointing to the back. "There's a place set up in the back for you to rest if you'd like. Or we can kick Arthur back there."

 

"I'm sure you'd have fun with that old man." The sarcastic tone was light, both men sharing a look that friends do when an inside joke had been exchanged. 

 

"Nah it's ok, I'd like to lay down."

 

however as soon as I reached up to pull myself up in the wagon I immediately gasped in pain. My grip shifted to my side and I curled in on myself. Like being shot all over again.Fuck that hurt. A pair of boots came into my veiw.

 

"You alright?"

 

"Yea I'm ok... Just pulled my side a bit."

 

"Lemme help ya," 

 

"Arthur I appreciate it but I am capable." Smirking to hide the bit of indignation (and pain) that was rearing it's head, I planted a hand on my hip. "I did make it up here alone before hand."

 

He mirrored me. "I know, but as much fun it would be to watch ya struggle," he laced is hands together and crouched down. " I'd rather get us going. Now up ya go."

 

He had a point, the sun becked from between the peaks, promising warmth. I grumbled, letting him assist me. Despite that the injury ached. I settled into the spot Hosea had cleared for me, thanking Arthur for the help. 

 

The caravan was secured, the horses stomped the snow impatiently and for that brief moment I reflected on the mining town. It was useless once more. And the Wendigo that had been stalking the inhabitants now shifted through the skeletal buildings. Searching. Burning coals watched in frustration as we left. It would wait there, hunting for people amongst the debris only finding ghosts.

 

It was gonna be nice to finally get off this damned mountain.

 

 

******************

 

 

The path down was rough, every rock and bump sent pain through my side, the worse being when the wheel busted off and sent the end the back corner of the wagon crashing down. That took the breath outa me. But it was worth it to be off that damned mountain. Spirits seemed to lift the further down we got, and it made sense: we were no longer on the brink of frostbite and starvation, the gang wasn't floundering for a place to go. 

 

Songs drifted between the wagons, punctuated with chatter and the occasional roar of laughter. Sometimes Arthur and Hosea would join in but more often than not they kept their own conversation going, Charles interjecting from his spot on a supply crate. I was content to listen.

 

When the ground evened out some I sunk further into the wagon, just low enough to peak over the crates. The terrain had shifted from jagged rocks and passes to lush rolling fields of green. Deer grazed quietly, moving slow and seldom. 

 

Hosea was educating Arthur on the poor relations with the natives in this land. They had good reason to be upset. Charles agreed. I listened quietly for a while, content on thinking of the place we were heading instead. Would they hold true to their word? Let me stay with them?

 

It would be nice to stay a little while, at least until my injuries healed up a bit more, get my feet under me. I'd have to get more supplies...a new horse. Money was a serious issue. Need to figure out how to get the funds. 

 

But until then I'd hang around. Who knows I might even stay. I sat up a little, looking up over the wagon seat.

 

"So Hosea what's this place called again?"

 

"Horseshoe overlook." Hosea turned around in his seat, "it's a good place for us to lay low- nice and quiet."

 

"Yea, if Dutch can lay low." Arthur flicked the reins, the horses shifting left some. "Can't seem to do that for long."

 

"Nah he can't." Hosea chuckled to himself giving Arthur a smirk. "Can't seem to take it easy."

 

"I can tell." I thought back to Colter, at least the parts I could remember, when the man continued to pull jobs while everyone was just holding on. 

 

"But it has helped us more than once. I have to give him that." Hosea added with a nod, almost to himself. 

 

The three outlaws agreed among themselves, before lapsing into silence. 

 

Above us birds flitted in the trees, twittering cheerfully. Sunshine, occasionally hidden by clouds , warmed my face, the chill of the mountain slowly ebbing away. I blinked heavily up at the arching branches rustling in the wind. So calm. I could fall asleep. 

 

It was then I realized that for the the first time in a long time I felt some semblance of security. I had know these people for a scant week, yet I was not wary of them. Or at least not as wary as I would usually be. It was odd. 

 

They were all criminals; murders, thieves and conmen (though I had no room to judge). However they were honest one's. Mostly; Micah made me uneasy for some reason. A few others appeared to share my dislike of the man, and as I did, only whispered their concerns to a select trusted few while side eyeing the others around them. 

 

But other than Micah everyone else seemed ok, at the very least reliable. My usual attentive guard was quiet, replaced by exhaustion. I hadn't done anything yet I still found my eyes heavy. I nodded on and off, head bobbing to my chest intermittently. 

 

"Get some sleep miss." Charles stated. "No use in arguing with that your body is saying."

 

"We won't leave ya'." Arthur smiled around a cigarette, smoke rolling over his features. "I promise."

 

I couldn't help but mirror that face. He was good people, and someone I wouldn't mind him being around for a while. Just something about him. Something...free and wild; a buck, scarred by life's trials, bounding through untouched forests. 

 

I blinked. Where had that come from? Fever must still be ailing me, creating crazy thoughts. I got more comfortable, slowly dropping away from the world. In a dark, jaded corner of my mind, something stirred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review!


	3. Settling in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me! Between work and life it's been hard to get to writing
> 
> I've stuck a few meme references in this chapter! Post what you think they are in the comments! 
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: this chapter will contain some NSFW content along with drinking swearing and partying   
> The Van der Lynne gang likes to party hardy

Someone shook me lightly. 

 

“Gotta get up miss.”

 

I groaned, curling up and tucking the blanket tighter around me. Another shake. I glared at the crate with half-lidded eyes.  _ This bitch. _

 

“Touch me one more time and I’ll break yer hand.”

 

Someone laughed. “Violent little thing ain’t ya?”

 

I knew that voice. Took a moment for me to register who it actually belonged to though. Arthur was balanced on the edge of the wagon, the sun at his back creating a halo around his form.  _ Wonder if that's what angels looked like _ . The thought caught me off guard, but I shook it off as fast as it had popped in my head. With a flick, his dart was free from ash and between his lips once more. He smirked around it tugging the blanket a bit.

 

“Ya still gonna break my hand?”

 

I pressed palms to my eyes, snorting at the question. “Nah, I guess I can let it slide this time cowboy.”

 

“Mighty kind of ya,” he jumped off the wagon before stamping the smoke into the dirt. “Now let's go, we made it ta the new camp.”

 

I sat on the edge of the wagon for a moment, still trying to wake up. The clearing was a decent size,looked like plenty of room for everyone and everything. And at this moment it was bustling with activity. Horses were ushered to the edges of camp, crates were being moved. Tents bloomed like flowers. Peirson already had something in the cookpot, the smell wafted heavily around everything. It was mixing with the odor of horse shit and hay.

 

Watching everything reminded me of a circus my Pa took me to when I was a child. A smile ghosted my lips as I allowed myself to wander through those faded memories. They weren’t as clear as I would’ve liked, however; fragmented pieces of time patched together with grayish blanks. I refocused on the present.

 

Arthur was on the move, and I having nothing better to do, followed after him. In the center of activity stood miss Grimshaw. She appeared to be in charge of delegation. That wasn’t a surprise, the woman got stuff done (or made sure it got done). And nothing was half-assed when she was in charge. I admired it, sometimes at least. 

 

She had just sent Mary-beth (?) away with some pots and pans when we got to her. Poor woman looked a bit frazzled, her pink-dusted face framed by pieces of hair falling from her bun. Yet she still put on an air of strength. Most likely to provide structure for the people who didn't have much to hold on to at the moment.

 

“Mr. Morgan, Miss Schook.”

 

“Can I help you with anything Miss Grimshaw?”

 

Her smile was a surprise ( had I seen her smile before?). “I appreciate it Arthur, but I have it covered. Now go on and rest - your tent is all set up.” 

 

“Thank you,”

 

“You have anything for me to do?” 

 

The woman planted hands on her hips, that battle-axe look in her eyes once more- She’d be a good viking I bet...Maybe a berserker. I almost laughed at that. I stifled it, however, after the look I recieved. I figured she wouldn’t give me anything to do but it never hurts to ask. Anything to pull my own weight.

 

“If I didn’t let you haul stuff this morning what makes you think I’d let you haul stuff now?”

 

I shrugged, throwing a side-eyed glare at Arthur. He was fighting a grin and I was damn sure I knew what he was thinking. I turned my attention back to Susan; I didn't want to be on her bad side so I didn't argue. Besides if I was being completely honest with myself I still felt pretty drained.

 

The tongue lashing I was probably about to receive was cut off by the clatter or metal from Pearsons wagon. Looked like a hellofa mess, what with the pans and supplies now scattered across the ground. That frown of hers deepened and she marched towards the wagon.

 

“You focus on resting Adaline...I gotta go clean up that mess.”

 

She stopped, pausing to look once more at the carnage; the camp cook was now plastered white by sack if flour that must've torn open. The cloud obscured the fuming expression he must've had. Bill was doing something to help, wasn't sure what, but by the sounds of those curses, it wasn't working.

 

“Damn. Arthur on second thought I might need some help, those fools are making things worse.”

 

“I don’t expect anything less from those two.” the jab was light-hearted but still held a tone of a man growing very weary of the idiocy around him.

 

“Have fun,” I smiled after him as he fell in step with the battle-axe.

 

_ What to do now.  _ Much of what I saw being done was lifting and hauling and I had been banned from that...I could’ve helped with the cookfire but with the shouting coming from what way I quickly dismissed the thought; let Arthur deal with that. Perhaps Hosea had something for me, or I could just sit and talk with him for a while. The man had a gift for spinning tales. All of which were true of course, according to Hosea. True or not they were entertaining.

 

“You lookin’ for something to do? Why not come help me?” Micah sidled up from nowhere, grinning down at me. Where had he come from? And how long had he been listening?

 

“Miss Grimshaw already gave me something to do; rest up.”

 

I turned to leave only to have him step in front of me, touching my shoulder. Man didn’t pick up social cues, if he did he would’ve realized my glare meant  _ fuck off _ . I wasn't keen on anyone touchin’ me. He at least dropped his hand, instead making a placating gesture. 

 

“Ya will be resting up! All I need for ya to do is sit there and look pretty while I work.”

 

He winked giving me a grin that he probably thought was charming, enough so to make me swoon. Unbeknownst to him it had the opposite effect. Dude was creepy. Would punching him be worth the risk of reopening my stitches? I was tempted to damn it all and go for it anyway. 

 

“It’ll give us more time to get acquainted.”

 

“Yea…that's gonna be a no for me.”

 

“Awe come on,” Micah leaned forward and I instinctively leaned back. He smelt like sweat, booze and stale cigar smoke. It’s been a rough week but damn! No one else smelt that bad, well most people didn't. Arthur didn’t for sure and he did most of the work! He smiled again. “Give a fella a chance.”

 

“You can't take a hint, can you?”

 

The friendly facade dropped rather quickly after that. He hadn’t been fooling me though; his true colors shown from his eyes, and how he carried himself. I knew his type. Kinda guy who tried to intimidate people into doing what he wanted or  shutting up- poor guy didn’t know I’ve dealt with much worse than him without backing down. Micah was just as unpredictable as him too. That didn't stop the unease snaking its way through my gut. Had to keep an eye on him.

 

The tension was building- a coiled rattler ready to strike at any moment. Getting into a fight right off the bat probably wouldn't be wise, especially with the stitches. But people would understand, right? A quick kick-

 

“Mr. Bell why don't ya go off and do somethin’ useful for a change?” Abigail stormed up, a wild glint in her eyes. She made me laugh with her way of confronting things. I didn't bother hiding my smile. She switched the hard stare to me, though it had softened some. “Miss Schook I need ya to come with me so I can redress that wound of yers.”

 

Micah growled something quietly and left, a sour look on his face. Man was like a kid. A dangerous one though. Something told me he’d be stirring up all sorts of trouble.

 

Abigail wasted no time in docterin’ when we reached her tent; it seemed she did a lot of it here. John was sleeping on a bedroll, face still bandaged up and bruised. I don’t know how he had survived the wolves and the cold, it was rather amazing. He was damned lucky.

 

I couldn’t help but hiss when she unwrapped the linen, little bits of skin came off with it. Abigail was being gentle, well her version of gentle, so the pain wasn’t nearly as sharp as it could’ve been. It helped that the skin was stitching together nicely. It was quite a change from a few days ago.

 

Back at Colter I was told that the infection had set so rapidly due to a bit of cloth that had festered; must’ve hitched a ride with the bullet without me knowing. The shot had gone clean through so I assumed it would be fine. If it weren't for these folks that assumption would’ve killed me; I could’ve kicked myself, taken down by a piece of fabric. What a way to go.

 

“I know ya can fix yerself up but it looked like ya needed an excuse to be away from Micah.”

 

I was used to fighting my own battles, so the fact that she thought I needed to be rescued had me a bit irritated.  _ She was just trying to help _ . It wouldn’t do any good to pick a fight with Micah anyways, especially since it seemed he was one of Dutch’s right hands. Or so I assumed. Either way, Dutch often listened to the man with a concerning level of consideration.

 

That made me nervous. 

 

“Thank you Abigail,” I smiled at the woman, it had been a considerate gesture. “Man can’t seem to take a hint.”

 

“Thats 'cause he's a damn idiot. “John’s unbandaged eye was bleary with pain killers. Really thought he had been asleep. “He’s run all the woman in the gang away-I bet he’s hopin’ to charm his way into yer skirts before ya figure out what a dipshit he is.”

 

“He’s way too late then,” my side twinged as I chuckled. “I figured that out my first few days here.”

 

Everyone shared a laugh. I stole a glance between abigail and John, thinking on the little ques, mannerisms and what they’ve said since I’ve known them. It would all fit together like a puzzle and I'd eventually  get a picture of who they really were. I needed more pieces for that yet

 

My partially puzzled out impressions of the two were good so far though. I felt I could trust them to an extent. Abigail had been the one to save me after all, and she was trying to keep me safe from the undesirables in camp. John I still didn’t know so well, I was relying on my gut for that.

 

Abigail sent me off once I had fresh bandages, saying something about having to take care of the idiot next. I was assuming she meant John if his look was anything to go by. They fought often it seemed, having a love hate relationship of sorts. They weren’t married either. However, they had a son, Jack. He was cute too, eyes so full of innocence; it made you want to protect him from every damn thing imaginable, no matter the cost. A hard job when he was being raised by a gang.

 

I meandered through camp musing on what I had learned about everyone so far. A decent bunch of folks for the most part (decent for a gang at least). Hard working too. I wasn't sure how long we had been here, but a good majority of the tents and wagons were already set up. Other than Arthur’s tent (I assumed it was since he was putting stuff away) being closer to Dutch’s than anyone else's, there didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to how everything was laid out. 

 

Right about then was when I was struck with the realization that I didn’t have any such thing...no tent, no bedroll, not even a blanket. The later two were in Colter, drenched in old blood . Besides what was in my rucksack, everything else I owned was spread across the mountains, with being in that camo or on my horse.

 

I found myself frowning at the thought; that poor horse. She had gotten me outta some real jams- didn’t spook easy and was the bravest horse I've had.  _ I’m sorry girl, you deserved better.  _ I loved that old gal. I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye much less bury her. Guilt turned my stomach. 

 

But I tried not to dwell on it. Throwing a pity party wouldn’t accomplish anything, instead I focused on finding the last few things I owned and getting a bedroll, maybe a blanket. Not having a tent wasn’t a big deal ( as long as the weather held out) ; I’ve slept under the stars plenty of times. There was a clump of oak trees just on the outskirts of camp that would be perfect. I could get some branches and make a lean-to, dig around the tree roots to make some semblance of a floor. It would provide a decent shelter until I could purchase a tent. 

 

That brought the issue of money to my attention once more.  _ Had to get that shit figured out. _ One problem at a time.  _ Solve what you can now, no use in trying to fix something when you ain’t got the right tools.  _ More times than one has my father’s words of wisdom ring true.  _ Old man, always helping me even beyond the grave. _ A smile found my face.

 

I went in search of Arthur, he probably knew where my stuff went. I really should’ve grabbed it off the wagon earlier. Oh well. I found the man in his tent shaving off a week’s worth of scruff.  _ Oh no honey, what is you doin’?  _ Ruining a damn good looking beard is what it looked like. But I had  always been partial to facial hair. 

 

“Hello Mr. Morgan.”

 

“Miss Schook,” Arthur wiped the blade before continuing to ruin his beard. “How ya fairin’?”

 

“Not too bad, Abigail changed the bandages and it looks like it's been healin’ up nicely.”

 

“Glad ta hear it.”

 

I glanced around his tent finding it rather homey; several photos and clippings were scattered across the space, a small nightstand with a framed photo was next to his bed. He must’ve been with this gang a long time to acquire as many amenities as  he had. Or he had money. I refrained from snooping further, it wasn’t my business. However, I would be lying if I has said I wasn’t curious as to what those newspaper clippings were about.

 

It just added more pieces to the puzzle that was Arthurn Morgan.

 

I sat on his coat, testing the give to his mattress. Pretty comfy. Arthur snorted from his place at the basin, the straight edge currently sliding over his Adam’s apple jumping a bit. When no blood drew he continued upward towards his chin.

 

“Make yerself at home why don’t ya?”

 

“I’m thinking about it, you didn’t seem to mind the floor at Colter.” I smirked at the look he threw over his shoulder, “aw don’t worry I won’t kick ya out. I actually came to see if you had an extra bedroll and blanket I could borrow, at least till I get my feet under me. And if ya knew where my bag went.”

 

“Where’d ya plan on sleeping? His face was muffled by a towel before he threw it in the basin. 

 

“There’s some oaks just that way, it’s a good place to set up a lean-to. If ya got some tarp that’d help too.”

 

He laughed, lighting a cigarette. “Ya really think Miss Grimshaw would let ya shelter like that? Injured no less? She’d be on you before ya even knew it, “ he gestured to himself, “Then she’d have  _ my _ head for givin’ ya the stuff to do it!” 

 

“True,” I shrugged, leaning back on my hands. I cocked my head to the left. “But i ain’t got any other options so I guess I’m gonna have to take that chance.”

 

“You might be ok with it, but I ain’t,” Arthur smirked, “But it ain’t gonna happen anyway, you got a place.”

 

“Oh?” I was genuinely confused. I didn’t have a place? I covered my puzzled expression with another smirk. “Ya come to terms with sleeping on the ground?”

 

“Smartass,” the man shook his head then waved at me. “Come’er,”

 

My curiosity was piqued. I followed him to the back of his tent, more specifically to the wagon that made up the wall. The back was cleared out, holding nothing except for a small crate in the back corner, a lamp, bedroll and a blanket. My bag was sitting at the front.  _ Answers that question. _ Arthur stood next to me, arms crossed seeming to be gauge my reaction by stealing quick glances at me. 

 

I studied the new shelter for a moment.

 

“This is for me?” I was still trying to wrap my mind around the gesture; it’s been a while since someone had done anything this nice for me.

 

“Yea, thought it was the least I could do since ya shared yer space at Colter.” he shrugged, “ya don't have t’sleep there if ya don't wanna-”

 

“No!” I smiled hurriedly, then gave him a playful shove. “That was real kind of ya, thank you.” 

 

Red dusted the man’s face, probably just the beginning of a sunburn. He cleared his throat. “Now don't go sayin’ that,” Arthur tipped his hat up, cracking a grin; something playful shone in his eyes, “folks would think I was goin’ soft.”

 

“My lips are sealed, Mr. Morgan” 

 

We tried and failed to keep a moment of silence before we broke into laughter. With that damned half-smile of his he turned and swaggered away, letting get my things get situated. I stared after him; those jeans did him a favor...Damn.

 

_ What? _

 

I blinked. My eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. I drew them back to my new space, trying to get the image outa my head. I only succeeded in pushing it to the back corner of my thoughts.

 

_ Get yerself together ya thirsty bitch… _

  
  


_ **************************************************** _

The oranges and reds of the sunset were bled away as dusk pulled over a blanket of stars. The night was cool and peaceful. I figured at this time everyone would’ve been sleeping or at the very least resting. It seemed like the best thing to do, given that we had almost froze and starved to death on a mountain just a few days ago. Seemed like it’d be the most  _ sensible _ thing to do.

 

Not to the Van Der Linde gang.

 

No; they had a big ass bonfire instead. They hung off one another, singing and laughing, all the while getting piss-drunk on the finest liquor one could steal. How Javier had taken over a dozen bottles of bourbon and whiskey without being caught still had me baffled (and impressed). But I wasn't going to complain; especially not with the pleasant buzz that was taking over.

 

Between shots of whiskey Mr. Escualla strummed his guitar, matching the tempo of the songs the gang was singing. Sometimes he would take requests, other times he chose the song himself, singing an octave higher than the rest to signal the change of tune. There were never any qualms, everyone taking to the new song immediately. A symphony that could only be appreciated by drunken ears.

 

Even Miss Adler had joined the party. Abigail and Susan sat on either side of her, speaking reassurances and squeezing her hand gentle intermittently. She sipped a glass of liquor, a sad smile showing on her face every once and awhile. But it was a smile. I wish I could help her feel better, but I wasn’t sure how to at the moment. 

 

Instead, I occupied my time by shooting shit with Lenny, Charles and Hosea. Hosea often dropped tidbits of  _ wisdom _ , as he called it, in our talks which almost always ended with all of us laughing ‘till our stomachs hurt. Mine especially, and I found myself doubled over in pain, giggling through the tears. Once that happened, however, Lenny and Hosea fussed over me like some drunken mother hens  It stirred a weird feeling in a dusty corner of my mind. 

 

_ This is why I shouldn’t drink.  _ Made me remember things I didn’t care to. Alcohol made me see things through rose colored lenses though, made it easier to deal with at that moment.

 

“I’m all right, I ain’t gonna die!” I smiled taking another drink. It didn’t even burn anymore- I was too drunk to care how drunk I was. I shoved off their worries and Lenny.

 

Poor Lenny overbalanced on the log he was on, sending him toppling backwards with a shout. The fire went silent for a moment before his hand shot up, holding his un-spilt drink in the air triumphantly. The camp roared in approval at this feat as did he. I helped him back up, apologizing as I did so. He was far from upset. We shared a drink, hugging it out. Charles made a toast to the man. Wv

 

All the tension I had felt amongst everyone the past week melted away. It was like nothing ever happened; Bill and Pearson were sharing a drink, laughing about the shit with the flour. The people once at each other's throats were now belting out lyrics in drunk duet.

 

Micah was just as creepy drunk as he was sober, however. He had bounced between groups, eventually settling next to Dutch (the leader seemed blind to his snake-like personality). His beady little eyes met mine and it took all I had to not flip him off, instead I stared him down as I drank some more.  _ You ain’t shit ya lil’ bitch. _

 

I felt another set of eyes on me. Glancing around I found myself looking at Arthur. He was smiling. I smiled back holding the bottle in my hand up, and when he did the same we toasted from across the fire. Javiar had stopped playing for now and he was talking with Morgan. 

 

Eventually exhaustion drifted through the camp, sending people to their respective tents on wobbly legs. Soon it was just Charles, Lenny Hosea and myself. The older man was telling us stories, mostly of the gang when he was younger, the one he currently was on now was about Arthur- him thinking himself a better gunslinger than he was and shooting himself in the foot on accident. Another about the time he got bucked off a horse and landed in a pile of manure, “ _ he stank to high hell for nearly two days! _ ”

 

Lenny and charles probably had heard these before but they still snickered and laughed along with me as if it were the first time Hosea had told them. He was damn entertaining, little wonder how he excelled at hustling folk; he had been born for it. 

 

“You always exaggerate them stories, Hosea,” the man in question appeared, slumping donw next to me, his arm flung out to keep his balance. “That horse only kicked me off ‘cause it saw a snake.” 

 

“I’m sure that was the only reason,” Charles smirked clicking his  near empty bottle against Lenny’s. 

 

“Ahuh.” Arthur took a swig of my drink, handing it back after as if he hadn’t stolen it in the first place “If were tellin’ stories then I got one for ya! There was this one time Hosea ended up in a dress running around Blackwater-”

 

“Now, now Arthur it’s getting too late for any more stories…” Hosea was quick to interrupt, hands out as if it would halt the tale. “We all best get some rest.”

 

Seemingly defeated Hosea returned to his tent while the three laughed after him. No matter how many times I asked about the story I was shot down, the reason being  _ “Hosea tells it best, we gotta wait for him ta be around!”  _  I conceded, content to drink and stare at the burn pit. 

 

Shortly after Lenny and Charles left too, bottles tossed in a pile before they went. There was quite a few empty bottles in that pile; I can't imagine anyone was gonna be feeling good tomorrow morning- except Jack of course. That was unless Uncle snuck him some, I wouldn't put it past the old drunk. 

 

Arthur pawed at me, going for my drink again. I held it away from him, scowling a bit; that turned into a laugh when I saw the look on his face- like a damned kid wondering why they got told no.

 

“Ain’t you got one of yer own?”

 

“The ground drank it.”

 

“The ground?” a smirk sloped across my face.

 

That was a funny excuse. The potent smell of spirits on his breathe told a different story, however. He smirked back ( it looked more mischievous than sarcastic when he was drunk) leaning in and nodding.

 

“Yes ma’am,”

 

_ How much did he have to drink? _ By the looks of it, a lot, but who was I to judge? I probably had, no I  _ did _ have much more than I should’ve ; the whiskey was going down like water now. Yup, I was shitfaced. So much so I didn’t even give a thought to the hangover that was surely to greet me in the morning. I’ll deal with that later. 

 

I conceded, passing the drink to the man.

 

Honestly, I wasn’t even upset about it, I had just been giving him shit the whole time. I would gladly share with him if it kept him close to me,  _ just because it was chilly and he was running warm _ . We sat in silence, enjoying each others company and watching the fire burn down to bright coals. Lightning bugs danced above us. Crickets played their own orchestra into the night, a comforting melody that brought back pleasant memories of the house near the crik. 

 

“Ya know, my pa used’ta say that fireflies are the souls of yer deceased family comin’ by to check on ya.”

 

Arthur seemed to contemplate my words for a long while, head swiveling to watch one of the bugs cutting through the smoke. With the fire dying it was much easier to see the dozens of flickering green lights. I just took the scene in. wasn't often I got to enjoy a quiet night like this; it was hard to do on the run. 

 

“Ya believe that?”

 

“I ain’t too sure,” the last of the whiskey disappeared in my gut. I shrugged, “Nothin’ saying that it ain’t true...So who knows.”

 

He nodded, then made a sound of disbelief, “ya didn't even share the last drink with me!”

 

“That is  _ my  _ bottle after all.”

 

He frowned, shaking his head and grumbling about it being unfair as he sat back against the log. I tossed the empty bottle towards the growing pile without thinking. As soon as I let the bottle go I realized I just threw glass at glass. It shattered. We both flinched.

 

We stared at each other for a moment before he cracked, trying to quiet his laughter. It was contagious. I had to clutch my side, but the pain wasn’t enough to squelch the irrational drunken fit of giggles. It didn’t make sense, it wasn't even that funny!

 

I used that thought to strengthen my resolve; I held my breath, pressing my lips in a firm line.  _ Time to be serious _ . Arthur tried to do the same. However, when I looked at the outlaw and the pure concentration on his face to hide his smirk, I snorted, bursting into laughter.. Just one of those things I guess. He lost it as soon as I had.  _ I hadn’t laughed like this in a long time… _ I didn’t remeber the last time I had such a fun night with a person, feeling safe with that person because I knew that they weren’t gonna try anything stupid.

 

It was about damn time I got cut some slack. 

 

It took us a while to get ourselves back under control. We sat, huffing and puffing from the exertion, my side was hurting some though the pain was dulled by the booze.  _ Probably gonna feel it tomorrow. _

 

The fire was nothing but black coals, dull red light beneath it. The moon did well to illuminate everything important, however. A chill nipped lightly at my hands and nose. With a shiver I stuffed them into my coat pockets, or that was the plan rather; instead I found my hands clasped in a larger warmer ones. Rough ones. 

 

_ Arthur’s. _

 

Something tickled my stomach, turning it in a way that made me feel unsure. Though I couldn't see his face I could sense his eyes on me. What the hell was he doing? What the hell was  _ I  _ doing letting this continue? I didn’t appreciate being touched. Strangely it didn’t actually bug me, nor did I have the urge to pull away. Weird. 

 

“Arthur, what’re you doin’?”

 

“I don’t want’ya catchin’ yer death out in this cold. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick.”

 

I gave a half-assed tug, trying not to seem too ok with this. “Don’t worry ‘bout me Morgan.”

 

He shook his head,  “Susan told me I was in charge of takin’ care of ya and I'm gonna do that.  we need ta get you to bed, wrap ya up with some blankets.”

 

“I think she meant just when I was bedridden with fever. I’m- Arthur yer gonna drop me ya jackwagon!” I hissed quietly whilst struggling to keep me feet under me as he worked to do the opposite. “Put me down!”

 

“I ain’t that drunk! Have a little faith.”

 

“Ok Dutch,” I smirked, poking his cheek.

 

“Ha ha, very funny. Now quit squirming or we’ll both be on the ground.”

 

There was no changing his mind so might as well enjoy the lift. He almost had me in the air, arms under my back and knees. Almost. He barely caught himself after he overbalanced, too top heavy for his drunken legs. I was still wrapped around his neck, bracing for impact with the ground. I loosened my hold when we stayed upright. He growled a bit to himself.

 

“I  _ can  _ walk ya know.”

 

“I know, but I’m already committed darlin’.”

 

_ Darlin?  _ That feeling in my gut was back in full force, my face heating up a little.  _ That was ‘cause of the liquor... _ and that was the reason he called me darlin’, he was drunk as hell. I wouldn’t let it get to me. I had been stuck in my thoughts too long because I was suddenly aware of Arthur's second attempt to pick me up. We were chest to chest this time, my arms around his neck and his hands under my thighs.  _ Fuck… now  _ I was warm,heat starting to pooling in my lower belly.

 

“See? I ain’t gonna drop ya.” He hiked me up further, I wrapped my legs around his hips to avoid being dropped on my ass. That gruff voice sent shivers down my spine, his breath on my ear wasnt helping either.

 

He wasn't even having trouble supporting me, it was like I weighed no more than a sack of flour. His movements seemed effortless. 

 

Arthur gripped my thighs a bit tighter, his arms knotting slightly, and his core flexed between my legs. I forgot all about the gunshot wound, didn't even feel it. All I felt was muscle holding me close and his belt buckle pressing upwards in just the right spot. Or at least I thought it was his belt buckle...honestly I was hoping I was wrong.  _ Damn its been awhile...I’m thirsting hard. _ Gotta get myself together.

 

I focused on holding on, trying to figure out exactly what his aroma reminded me off...anything but the sensations traveling down my belly. Funny how a smell could dredge up random memories; campfires, prettying up the horses in the barn or oiling the saddles...gunsmoke in my nose after that bloodbath of a shoot out. No. Ain’t gonna think about that. Not when there was something good in front of me right now. 

 

That good thing was currently pressed close. But of course he was just a friend. Friends took care of one another like this, especially when they were drunk as skunks. It was normal. I shifted my grip around his neck while Arthur shifted his grip higher on my thighs. A little gasp escaped as new wave of warmth traveled to my lower torso.

 

“Here we are,” Arthur put me on the back of the wagon, I didn't realize we had already made it to the tent already. “Safe and sound.”

 

“I guess so, thank you Mr. Morgan.” I leaned in and gave him a hug, tightening my legs around his hips. My curiosity always grew when I drank a bunch. Even more so with a good looking fella.

 

_ Just a bit closer _ … I should’ve been ashamed, barely knew this guy a week and I was already trying to feel what he was hiding in them jeans of his. I wasn't the least bit remorseful. Fuck that noise. Life is too short. I hooked my fingers in his belt loops, drawing him closer, unsure if he could see my smile. His hat cast a long shadow across his face, but I could still see the smirk he wore. Too bad, I would’ve liked to see his eyes. Wonder if they were dark like mine.

 

He pressed forward, his hands on my hips now- my breath caught; nope, that definitely was not a belt buckle. Arthur chuckled, his thumbs circling my hip bones gently. Wonder if he knew how he knew that was a sensitive spot for me; lucky guess perhaps.

 

“Ya alright miss?” his voice was low and hoarse. 

 

I let my hand wander across his chest. “Never better.”

 

He jumped slightly as I slid my hand downwards, tucking my fingers under the waist of his trousers, feeling the coarse hair against my knuckles. Damn, the  _ heat.  _ Felt like a furnace I tugged him close by his belt, grinning up at him.

 

It was quiet, the air between us still yet electric and full of energy. He leaned in close. Closer. I met him halfway. It wasn’t what I was expecting; a man like him, running in a gang that robbed and killed...I figured he’d be a bit more, I dunno, aggressive or hungry, for lack of better words. Someone that would take charge immediately. But I had already seen that the man had much more than to him than he let on. They way he kissed proved that further.

 

His hand crept up to my neck, squeezing lightly as he pressed his lips gently to mine. I curled my fingers around his belt, drawing him closer and wrapping my legs tighter around him. He was quick to wrap an arm around my back when I went lax. He pulled back after a moment, flicking my upper lip with his tongue. 

 

“Still ok?” He asked, those hands settling on my ass.

 

I smiled answering his question by wrapping a hand around his bandana and pulling him down once more. HIs neck had a slight prickle to it, even after he had shaved. I nuzzled him, nipping here and there, pressing a kiss to each spot after. By the soft groan in my ear I was guessing it felt good.

 

He swore quietly, hand tightening on hip.  _ Damn was right... _ I felt myself growing more aroused, showing arthur my eagerness to keep going by pressing against him firmly. He slid me even closer; no mistaking his excitement now. I growled into the crook of his neck, biting at his collarbone. He returned the favor.

 

God he felt good against me. 

 

“You think you can handle it?” The question was laced heavily with desire, yet genuine. “Might rip them stitches.”

 

“I'll take that chance.” 

 

“Gambler, huh?” Arthur thrusted himself forward a little, setting a slow rythym. I grabbed at his back until we we're near flush. “then move yer little ass back on that bed so I can come in proper.”

 

The inuendo wasn't lost to me, it intensived the feeling between my legs. I moved to do as he said. I've needed this. He knelt on the wagon, hands traveling up my calves. Past my knees. Mis thigh.  _ He knew how to get a lady going.  _

 

Shuffling feet made us freeze. Fuck. A shape meandered out of the darkness, stumbling towards the tree line. Silence, then the sound of piss. We didn't move. When the shape turned our hands left one another, Arthur backing up off the wagon.

 

“Whatcha guys still doin’ up?” it was Uncle.

 

I was a fish outa water, still in a daze. Arthur collected his witts quicker than I did. He cleared his throat.

 

“Miss Schook was cold, so I was bringin’ her some extra blankets.” his voice was still hoarse. “Now leave us be ya old drunk, we’re tryn’ to get some sleep!”

 

Uncle grunted, slurring something in response as he took off someplace that most likely wasn’t his bed; he was pretty smashed so I was hoping he wouldn't remember any of this. Arthur turned back to me, a frown on his face. the lust-filled fog that had previously clouded our minds had dissipated, leaving in it's wake realization of exactly what we we're doing. We parted further. Guess it was a good thing...Didn’t want to get too attached. Plus it’d make things awkward.  _ What had I been thinking? _

 

I smoothed my shirt. He adjusted his bandana, nodding to himself and glancing around, not meeting my eyes. The man cleared his throat, chuckling a bit. I smiled some trying to find the humor in the situation.

 

“So uh, do- do you need some extra blankets?”

 

“No- I’m plenty warm now. I- Thank you for asking though…” he backed away a step.  _ Don't go… _ I kept telling myself it was best this way.  “We probably should get some sleep?”

 

“Yea… I reckon’ we should,” he started off around his tent, stopping briefly to look back at me. “Night Miss Schook. Lemme know if ya need anything.”

 

_ I need you to come back here and kiss me ya damn cowboy. _

 

But of course I didn't say that. I couldn't say that.  _ Ever _ . I nodded instead, crawling backwards into my bed before I changed my mind and jumped into his. Fuck. I was a bit more sober after Uncle's interruption, my thoughts just starting to get back in order. What was I  _ thinking _ reciprocating the affection? 

 

_ He started it. _

 

_ That didn't mean a damn thing. _

 

He was probably drunker than I was and like a good portion of drunk men he was most likely feeling more frisky than usual; and I just so happened to be there for him to pin that pure infatuated desire. It didn't help that I was the same way. Arthur probably had lots of girls. Probably happened the same way too: everyone drunk as hell and acting like desperate touch-starved fools.

 

_ Was he always that gentle though?  _ It seemed highly unlikely...but what would I know? It's not like we actually talked about any of that kinda stuff before. 

 

It didn't make sense that he'd change the way he did things for me. He didn't have a reason too- his goal was to get somewhere. My dumbass was more than happy to oblige him… stupid.

 

I still felt the lingering effects of our brief closeness in my mind and body, however, nerves tingling as if he were still touching me. The ache between my legs wouldn't let me ignore it. Gonna be hard to sleep before I calmed back down, that was unless I just finished myself off.

 

Would Arthur know? Would he hear it maybe? Or sense the slight movement from the wagon beside him? He probably wasn't going to remember much of tonight though, and I'd be quiet. I seldom made much noise.

 

Fueled by liquid courage I slipped a hand down my pants, finding that perfect spot and rubbing tight little circles. Usually I'd focus on the sensations alone, that was enough to put me over the edge most of the time.

 

But now all that took up my mind was the guy one bed over. His hands, his face… that voice of his. How close he had been, how  _ hard  _ he had been- he wasn't average that was for sure. That got my imagination running full force- I used my other hand to see how he might feel inside me; he'd provide such a full feeling, pressing on every single spot that could tip me over the edge all at once.

 

My hands on his back, drawing him even further in with each movement, holding on for dear life as he rocked into me-

 

I bit my lip, staying silent as I could as I came. In the privacy of my mind, however, I called out his name.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Let me know what you think! Comments and reviews are appreciated
> 
> There will be more meme references in future chapters so keep an eye out :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!! I would love constructive criticism, opinions, thoughts of where to go next! 
> 
> Thank you!


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